Bellamont
by the-lovecat
Summary: Take away a boy's reason to live, and he'll grow up a vengeful murderer. If a life full of sin is the price to pay, then Mathieu Bellamont will spend eternity in Oblivion to avenge his sweet mother's death. Rated T for violence and language.
1. Childhood

**Summary:** The story of Mathieu Bellamont, traitor and vengeful member of the Dark Brotherhood.

**Rating: **T, for strong language and violence.

**Author Notes: **You can find so many Lucien Lachance fics on , but I found maybe three unfinished Bellamont stories. I figured I'd be taking a fresh new approach by writing a Bellamont story that hopefully has people feeling for him. I like Lucien as well, but I always felt mass pity for Bellamont after finding out his story in the game.

The plot is all written out so luckily I'm not going to run into any writers block. Also, thanks to my _**awesome **_Beta-reader, writing this is going to be a whole lot smoother and with a lot less grammar errors.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story. Cheers : )

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything from this story, except Mikal Bellamont, and any other characters not originally from the TES universe. If I did, you wouldn't be reading this because I'd be too busy taking a shower with all that money.

* * *

_**Chapter One:**_

_**Childhood**_

Bellamont was at the age of 35, ad he was dying.

He was on his back in that filthy damned tomb, the one where they called that whore "Mother" lived. The knife was still pierced in his chest. Lucien's dog Silencer was laying on the ground as well, on his bleeding stomach, his hand desperately clutching the knife as if he were afraid to let it go. Why should he be afraid? He won, after all. Bellamont, in deep pain, throwing up chunks of thick blood, stared hard at the dark ceiling. Dying was such a long process, even with a killer pushing down the knife in you second after second. Bellamont wanted to embrace Death finally, something he had looked forward to since that horrid day. He never realized that till now, but dying was a long, dull process. Was it a long process for all his victims, too? Did they have to think about all the sins they committed while dying by their vengeful murderer as well?

The ceiling. It was rocky. Bellamont didn't know why he studied it so hard, but he did. It was a pointless, yet to Bellamont a horrible, ugly ceiling. Why did he care so much about it? Maybe he wanted to remember something before he died. But surely, if he could remember anything after death, it would be more than the fact that the ceiling is rocky? Yet, what else was there in Bellamont's life? Hardship. Pain. False hope. Lost love. Death. Murder. Red. Black...

Bellamont grinned.

Even with a knife taut in him, which should have made him writhing in pain, he was smiling big, like a cheshire grin . The man, for the first time in his life he could call himself that, remembered something he had forgotten long ago. It was something important. Something he missed along his relentless life. Something special.

At one point, Mathieu Bellamont was happy.

~~{*}~~

"Mikal, not so high!"

Young Mikal screeched with loud laughter, ignoring the aching in his throat as he and his older brother jumped carelessly on their beds. Mathieu had always kept an eye out for the little Mikal, but in truth he could be called just as reckless. In fact, they were both known as little devils and troublemakers in their Bravil town. Still, neither child had any care in the world, thinking nothing of society and they way society viewed them. In a way, they thought nothing was able to ever stop them. They were just children, after all, even Mathieu Bellamont.

Mikal landed on his bottom on the soft bed, and after a couple of bounces he crossed his arms and smeared on a pouty face.

"You always gotta be the boss, Matty!" little Mikal whined like a little brat. Mathieu sighed in annoyance. Mikal never understood the dangers of the world yet, and though Mathieu as young and reckless as well, he knew that if you fell off a bed you'd be crying about it soon after. It was Something he learned from past experiences, somewhat painful ones.

"Come one," Mathieu finally groaned, "You can pick what we do next." A big smile swept across Mikal's face. He happily bounced off the bed to the wooden ground and rushed out the door past his brother, determined to finally beat Mathieu in a game of race. Mathieu grinned as he sprinted across the house, making loud thumps and stomping on the ground. He was able to easily cross Mikal's path, for Mikal could never accept Mathieu's athletic speed.

The two Bellamont children made their way to the kitchen where their mother was preparing a hot meal for the night's dinner. They rushed past her without thinking, almost knocking her to to ground with a pot in her hands.

"By the Nine! Children!" She screamed after them while flinging a hot wooden spoon in the air like a mad-woman. "What did I say about running in this house?" But the kids were already gone, missing out on their mother's usual lecture and laughing like maniacs. Mikal tried to chase his older brother across the Bravil city, both dodging older adults who were in their way. Every time, Mathieu would hear someone scream "Damn kids!" or a "Rude misfits!" The kids didn't care though. They simply ran off without an apology.

Mathieu finally gave it a rest. His brother was now screaming from far away to wait up. At this point, Mathieu could have fled to Leyawiin and back before Mikal could even leave town. He gradually slowed his pace down, avoiding tripping and crashing into the dirt ground. While trying to take control of his heavy breathing, he stopped in front of a very tall, very beautiful statute of a motherly looking woman.

_The Lucky Old Lady._

His neck bent back as he admired the statue. Mathieu always did love this landmark for some reason. Maybe it was the smile on her pretty face, or the laughter the small children seemed to silently make. Maybe it was that he could seemingly hear a voice coming from the woman herself, whispering into his ear with warm, soft words. The Lucky Lady seemed to spread love, not only to the inanimate children below her, but to the people and travelers in Bravil. And for what reason? Well, maybe there doesn't have to be a reason.

Poor little Mikal finally caught up with his older sibling, but had ignored Mathieu's advice to slow down. The young boy tripped on his own shoelace and fell far, smashing his face into the dirt ground and almost breaking his little nose and leg. Yet, the brave kid got back up steadily as he could, and with small whimpers he limped his way over to sit by his bother. After trying to fight away tears, he looked behind him to face the high-standing Lucky Lady.

"Are you ok?" Mathieu finally asked him.

"I'm fine..." He pouted quietly, and Mathieu rolled his eyes. Mikal had always been this stubborn, never listening to a word Mathieu said, then whine when he had to pay the consequences.

"Why did we stop here, Matty?"

"No reason, really," Mathieu sighed, then mocked coincidentally, "I just knew you wouldn't be able to beat me, so I stopped to wait on you."

"That's a lie, Matty! Mikal stood up in defense, "I could beat you any day and you know it!"

"Cause you sure showed it now, right?" He laughed, "Alright, alright. You wouldn't be able to tell a joke from your face, Mikal." The younger boy pouted again as usual, but Mathieu ignored him. He leaned back to view the statue once more, laying by one of the stone-children who reached out for its mother. Mathieu wrapped his single finger one the stone-child's tiny wrist. He added, "They say if you give the Lady a kiss, you'd get your wish. All your dreams, glory...anything will come true."

"That's a bunch of troll-poo."

Mathieu, a little startled by this comment, laughed, "Why do you say that?"

"Cause we can't even reach her! We can't we have our wish come true if we can't even reach to give her a kiss?"

"That's your fault for being small, runt," Mathieu laughed as he got up on his feet and began walking away.

"Why you gotta be a meanie all the time?" Mikal whined while following his brother. Mathieu chuckled. _There is no answer to answer to that question, _he thought with a smirk.

When the two got home, they found three hot plates full of food read to be eaten. Chicken, corn, potatoes, it was the cooking that made both the children's mouth water just by looking at it. Mother always had the best cooking, everyone knew that. It was her two children, however, who go the best of her cooking. Mathieu considered himself lucky to have a mother like her.

"You don't have to wait," Mother chuckled. She had always ignored the proper way to do things, such as waiting for everyone to eat. She always figured that if they weren't there to eat before others were, that was their fault. Mathieu always admired her ways of rebelling society, even if other's ddn't. Excited, the Bellamont children dug into their food like like starving moles. "Gracious," Mother joked, "You two act like I don't feed you!"

Mathieu, who still had food tucked in his mouth, as able to utter out the question, "Where's Father at?"

Of course, she didn't actually know for sure. She knew what he was doing, though; he was off screwing some whore across town. But she didn't know which one this time. Mother never did give the boy an answer, for it was something she didn't want him knowing for a long time if not at all. She only passed him a napkin to wipe off all the food form his mouth. The children could sense the sudden faint change in her mood. "Go clean yourselves up," She told them, "you have service tomorrow at the Mara Chapel, and it's an early wake."

Though Mikal pouted as usual, Mathieu did what he was told. He never questioned his mother. She was about the only one he never questioned though, because he never thought his Father, who he rarely saw, deserved such respect.

Mathieu Bellamont only wished nights were as pleasant as the days were, but that was never true. When Father had finally come home, it was hard to sleep. Mother and Father would constantly fight to the point he could hear his mother's screams and his father's roars clearly as day. Mathieu never understood why they fought the way they did. Mathieu could hear thumps and cries all the time, and it made him so worried but too scared to check what was happening. Mother would yell out "Whore" and other words in Breton tongue. Father would use "Bitch" , which made Mathieu himself angry. His dear mother wasn't a-

Mathieu wasn't allowed to say such words.

He was way past trying to sleep, it was useless to try anymore. Mathieu turned his head to view his brother. Above all the screaming, Bellamont could see part of his brothers face, partially covered in the dark, but it was enough to see the look. Mikal's face was blank, not scared, not angry. Blank.

"Mikal? "Mathieu whispered to his brother. No response. Not even a flinch. Mathieu didn't like when Mikal got like this, it scared him too much. He would act as if his soul was sucked out of him, if only for a night. Yet, normal nights were pretty much like this, and Mathieu was getting tired of it.

Mathieu just wanted everyone to be happy.

~~{*}~~

One Middas afternoon, Mother, whose real name was Margaret Bellamont, was having her daily tea with her sister-in-law and one friend, Mayle. It was common for high-class Bretons to partake in these kinds of events, no matter how small, and at least one tea-time a day was apart of these traditions. Of course, you would have to have at least one Breton friend or family to partake with you, whether your Breton or not in order for the social call to be culturally correct. At the time, Bretons considered themselves higher than anyone else, and anyone who didn't follow the socially accepted code wasn't even good enough to talk to them. Margaret, now being a Bellamont, only felt as if it were her duty to take part in these types of things, but mostly because Alain harassed her if she didn't. He would argue with the "The family will talk if you don't!" spech. Really, she didn't give a rat's ass about society's culture.

Sigh... well, at least it was with Mayle and not some other stuck-up Bellamont. Yet, Mayle _would_ talk her head off if she could. Margaret, believe it or not, wasn't a rich Breton. She grew up in a lower class Breton family in High Rock, where instead of daily teas, they would spend their time praying to the chapel of Mara. It took time to adjust herself in this lifestyle after marrying Alain and moving to Cyrodiil. Time that could have been better spent prying to the Adrea gods like a good Breton should.

Mayle sat her tea down properly and pierced her lips together like a normal high-class woman. "Still having relationship issues with my brother?" She asked rather loudly to Margret, as if it wasn't a secret to anyone.

"Yes, Mayle," Margaret murmured before sipping her tea, something she also had to get used to drinking. "We'll be fine though. We just need a little time to heal, that's all."

Mayle gave a high lady-like _Hmp._ "I wouldn't deal with that maniac," She advised, "I've been his sister my whole life and I can tell you he'll never change. I'm telling you because I'm your friend, not because your married to my brother. His anger can get the best of him. You wouldn't want him to harm your kids would you?"

"Thats absurd!" Margaret put her cup down in anger, "He wouldn't do anything to those children! And besides, my kids need a father, what right do I have to take that away from them, anyway?"

"They don't even see their father now, so what's the difference? In my opinion, if it matters, they'll be a mess by the time they turn 18 from this whole ordeal." Mayle finished her cup already, and set it to the side. "They'll be happier with a single mother and a quiet life."

Margaret sighed. Though Mayle was obviously a spoiled rich woman, she was wise and happened to be right all the time, including in this situation. Mayle Bellamont was like that. Her smarts were always overshadowed by her snobby attitude. Either way, Margaret had to take this conversation to heart. She decided that the following night she was going to talk to Alain.

_Hopefully_, she thought to herself,_ nothing bad will come out of it..._

~~{*}~~

Mathieu jerked up violently from his sleep. _What was that?_ It sounded like a loud thump. Louder than before. There was screaming too, but from who? Mathieu's breathing was getting heavier, and that feeling inside him sunk deep. It wasn't like before, when his parents fought. This time it was different. His chest was beating so fast. Something had went wrong, he didn't know what and he didn't know why, but he knew it was the truth. Something bad had happened.

The brother's bedroom door flew open nearly off it's hinges, frightening both the kids who gasped loudly. It was their dear mother. Her face was scared, and it was dripping in some thick liquid that Mathieu couldn't make out in the darkness.

"Get your stuff together!" She bolted into the room.

"Momma-"

"Don't question me, Mikal!" Mother shouted at the boy. She started to throw clothes into bags without even looking, shoving them like it would be the death of her if she didn't hurry. "Do what I say, we don't have much time!" Rushed, both kids followed their mother and stuffed their belongings into bags. Mathieu got all he could together, not knowing when they'll be back. Mikal, on the other hand, desperately shoved toys and stuffed animals into his bag, only thinking of what he would play with in the long run.

The wagon was already waiting outside. Mathieu looked around, yet Father wasn't in sight. It was just the three, plus the fat old driver and his slowly dying dog.

"M-mother," Mathieu tugged on his Mother's sleeve nervously, "Where's Father?"

Oh, just great. How was Margaret supposed to tell little Mathieu what had happened? No, this wasn't the time for questions. They needed to go before he woke up. "No more questions," She ordered, "Go get in the wagon and make yourselves comfortable. This is going to be a long ride."

Night was so different when your riding in a buggy, Bellamont thought. He was so paranoid, thinking that some wolf was going to attack, or bandits would rob them. Mother was too protective, too. She would die trying to shove them away. Mathieu didn't like this at all. He had so many questions to ask his sleeping mother, but didn't know if he had the guts to start. Her sleeping face was in terrible shape. It was still bloody but slowly turning into scabs. Her left eye was black, and upper lip was so swollen, it almost made Mathieu gag. Mathieu tried to close his eyes along with his two relatives, but couldn't even manage that. This, Bellamont thought, was going to be a long cold night.

A few times, they stopped at small towns for supplies and to have the Buggy-rider rest. Mother told the Buggy-rider that she refused to stop at any big city, for "Someone might tell him that we were there. I want to get as close to our destination without stopping at any other city." The small cities were a bit strange to the two brothers. They've never been outside their Bravil city, so seeing lower-class children dressed in rags run around was different in a way. The children had nothing to play with, no toys or games, yet the sill had fun somehow. The Bellamont brothers felt like outsiders, and couldn't get themselves to approach any other kid. Either way, it wasn't long before the four had left the towns they arrived in.

Nights turned into days, making Bellamont wonder how far their destination was. He was worried. How would Father be able to find them when they were so far away? Mathieu didn't like riding in the Buggy. It was uncomfortable and small. Yet, in the situation with his Mother, he didn't dare complain.

Finally, the Buggy-rider had let the three stop at a big city, surrounded by a beach and boats, that Mathieu was unfamiliar with. He saw the big stone-sign and murmured along with the bolded words "Anvil" that was imprinted in it.

"Why did we come here, Mother?" He asked curiously to Margaret as they made their way into the gate.

"This," Margaret sighed, almost not believing the truth herself, "Is our new home, children."

"A new home?" Mathieu thought. The two brothers looked at each other curiously.

_No more screaming? No more fighting?_

_Its all over?_

Bellamont smiled bug and brightly to himself. The Lucky Old Lady had given him his wish.

The one wish he had hoped for everyday since the fighting began.

The once wish that Mathieu would trade all his presents in for.

_He had a new life._


	2. Betrayal

_A/N: Again, much thanks to my Beta-Reader. Here's chapter dos, and finally things are heating up._

* * *

_**Chapter two:**_

_**Betrayal **_

The Anvil skies never seemed to be clear to Bellamont. He looked up from the ship's dock, procrastinating as usual and lost himself in deep thought. It had been three years since they fled Bravil, three years since they last saw their father. Now, Bellamont was age 14, old enough to work. He looked much older, however. His hair grew longer, something his father wouldn't permit, and tied it into a thick pony-tail. Mikal was 11, the same age Bellamont was when they fled. Mikal was much more mature, but still more childish than Bellamont ever was at that age. Being too young to work still, Mother had Mikal stay in the small Anvil school while Mathieu continued to try and scrape up money for the family of three.

Not to say anything had gotten better, Yes, they left behind a life of screaming, fighting and abuse. Yet they picked up a life where their poor mother had become depressed and paranoid that Father would come back. Aunt Mayle would send charity money to the family every now and then, which Mother shamefully accepted. Bellamont was already growing tired of the shameful depressed life mother had. He hoped she would be happy after leaving Father. One day, Bellamont hoped, Mother wouldn't have to worry about a thing, as long as the boy worked hard and saved up enough gold.

"Bellamont, get to work!" Barkly the Tall yelled at Mathieu. He sighed. The worse part of Anvil was all the Nords that thought everyone was as strong as them, forgetting that short Bretons such as Bellamont wasn't able to do as much heavy-lifting. Bellamont was pretty damn strong for his young age, but eventually even he gets tired of carrying cargo for ten hours by hand. And with his poor mother on his mind, it wasn't making it any easier.

"Coming..." Bellamont walked over to the 75 pound crate and grunted as he attempted to lift it. His knees and elbows ached so bad, but complaining about it to a Nord would result in a half hour marathon of push-ups.

The day's routine carried on after work. Bellamont picked Mikal up from the small shack of a school, and on the way home, both would pick up food for Mother to cook. She would cook, then they would sleep. The next day the cycle continued. Nothing different or exciting ever happened now a-days. It was no doubt a bore to Mathieu, but he didn't dare think of the life they would have if they stayed with Father those three years ago.

Sometimes he considered stealing, and if he ever chose to, it seemed so easy- those rare nobles wore their purses on their belts, as if to show off their wealth to the rest of the town, so easily snatched when you're in a crowded tavern or street... But the thought if his mother's face if she ever found out kept him from reaching out and taking what wasn't his, driving him back to work better than a whip could.

~~{*}~~

Bellamont jerked up from his sleep. Heavy breathing, hurting chest...it was the same feeling he had before. That feeling right before Mother woke them up to flee Bravil. But...why was he having the same feeling now? Bellamont hurried out of bed, and put on his shirt to check on Mother.

"Brother?" Young Mikal, half asleep, called out form his bed.

"Shh, go back to bed," Bellamont whispered," I didn't mean to wake-"

He was interrupted by a far away sound. It was faint, but both boys clearly heard it. Mikal jumped from his bed and followed his brother, who entered the hallway as silently as he could. Both boys were well curious, but more importantly, worried. Mathieu, stalling for a moment by his mother's door, held his knuckles up and gave three small taps against the wooden door.

"Mother?" He quietly called out. There was no answer that followed. With Mikal close by, Mathieu slowly turned the knob, and creaked open the old wooden door. He only saw darkness in the room, with no Mother to be seen. This wasn't good, and Bellamont wasn't sure what the wise thing to do now was. He crept slowly to his mothers bed, just to make sure she wasn't in it before Mathieu left.

"Brother?" Mikal whispered.

"Hush."

His hands caressed the piled covers. There was no Mother in them, Bellamont sighed. His heavy breathing grew loud and uneven, even Mikal could hear it now. Surely, if Mother was planning to leave this late at night, she would have at least left a note or said something before she left, wouldn't she? It wasn't like Mother to just-

The door slammed shut behind them, startling them both nearly off their feet. It was Mother, trying her hardest to push the door close with all her strength.

"Get under the bed, both of you!"

"Moth-"

"Now!"

In a rush, Bellamont grabbed his younger brother and dragged him under the bed with him, just as Mother had ordered. She was still holding the door close, afraid for her life to let it go. Mother was a strong and courageous woman, and it took a lot for her to act this scared and desperate. To make such a woman act this way...Bellamont wanted to grab her and run.

"M...mother?" Bellamont whispered aloud. She seemed to ignore him at first, checking the door before she let it go. As quietly as she could, so no one else would hear, Mother whispered.

"Children, make me a promise."

Mathieu and Mikal looked at each other, tears filling their eyes. "Y-yes, Mother?"

"Promise me," He face broke out into a sob," Promise me that if something happens, you stay under that bed, Ok? Stay under that bed and don't come out until until your sure he's gone."

Bellamont, so afraid and confused, tried his best to look at his mother throughout the darkness. "Who?"

"Promise me."

Mikal nudged Mathieu on the shoulder. Both nodded, too afraid to speak any longer. Both children could sense the fear in their mother's voice, and it turret them just to see their mother like this. "Why Mother?" Bellamont whispered, so soft and faintly, only Mikal, who shivered and cried silently, could hear.

Mother let go of the door, cautiously staring at it as she took small step backwards. This couldn't be happening, she kept telling herself. She knew he was angry, but to go this far? How could he do this to her? Margaret shook like a rattle, cold, frightened, unaware...

The door slammed open, more violently than before. Mother screamed loud into the air, grabbed ahold of anything she could for protection. A man, Bellamont couldn't see who, stepped inside the dark room where he awaited for Bellamont's poor mother. He glided, almost, toward the woman, and gave a big mocking grin.

"Nonono-"Motor repeatedly cried to her evader. Bellamont's young mind raced so fast, he couldn't wrap the situation around it. Oh Talos, who was this man in black, and why had he felt the need to cause so much horror? Why was he scaring Mother like this? Then, Bellamont's eyes widened at the sharp silver blade the dark man held in his gloved hand. Mathieu nearly cried out for her to run, if not for Mikal holding him back. Mother wept, wept like a child. "Please, no! Have Mercy, please!"

The man, as cruel as he could, smiled darkly at her. "Sithis wants blood, my lady. And he demands yours." Mikal cried along with his brother, having a hard time holding him back. The man, the sick man, laid his cold hand on her neck as she struggled. He lifted he knife to her neck-

_No, this isn't real!_

_No, NO DONT!_

The blade slit across her neck in a single slice, blood flowed freely on the ground as she tried to scream for her life, but nothing could come out but more dark blood. Bellamont stopped struggling. Oh god, he was so scared now, he couldn't move. His world crashed down on him, and he didn't even have the ability to scream for his mother. The man, he didn't stop slicing! He...he kept cutting and cutting. God, wasn't it enough?

The room fell silent. No screaming, no cutting, no tears. Only one last sound Bellamont could remember of his mother.

The sound of his Mother's head dropping on the ground. Her dead eyes stared at the boys, as if pleading for them to help.

There was nothing left to help.

Unknowingly, the man left the two children behind. Mathieu and Mikal struggled to finally get out from under the bed, Mathieu screaming and crying out to his mother. He actually tried to pick up he head, of all things, but Mikal dragged Mathieu by the arm out of the room. In one night, Mikal had become the matured one.

"_Get off me, Mikal! Mother, Mother!"_

"_We have to get help, Mathieu!"_

"_Mother!!"_

When the legion arrived, they didn't know what to expect from besides the reports of screaming throughout the house. But what they did see would be written down as one of the most tragic scenes in Anvil's history. Arlis Harold was one of the first officers one the scene, and walked in to see two children in mass hysteria crying together in a hallway full of blood. It wasn't until they opened the bedroom door did they understand why.

"The room was covered in blood," Arlis later recalled to his Dunmer officer, Renayld. "I mean covered. Even in the darkness we could see that. It took us a bit to notice where it came from."

"And where did it come from?"

"A headless body."

Renold raised a brow. "What on earth happened to the head?"

"Marcus, that idiot new recruit, didn't see it by his foot and kicked it across the room," Arlis sighed," The kids saw, and lost it. They blew up a storm in that room. Took us an hour to get them to finally calm down."

"Oh my..." Renold glanced over to the boys, who sat on a wooden bench, unmoving. "They haven't said a word since we got them out here. They act like the souls have seen sucked out of them."

Arlis grunted. "After what they've been through, I'm not a bit surprised. Have your Mother's head chopped off like that and then come talk to me."

"Arlis," Renold looked at his partner," I never knew my mother."

Arlis shrugged. "Well, tough. Do they have anywhere to go?"

"A father, I think, in Bravil. They have a wagon staged outside to take them there. The legion decided not to wait for the father to reply to the letter we sent out, so they're sending the children now."

The Imperial coughed. "A little early for that, isn't it?"

"Doesn't matter what we say."

Bellamont wished he could recall how he felt, sitting with his brother, both covered in their own mother's dried blood. But he couldn't. Nothing was going on inside his head, even as he sat and listened to his brother's cries. He didn't say a word, think a single thought, or even try to remember the horrible events that night. He broke, simply to say. His world shattered, his life ruined. No one should ever have to see their mother die in such a fashion. No one should have to sit and watch their mother's body being dragged out in a white sheet.

Yet, Bellamont did.

A young female officer walked hesitantly over to the mourning children. "A wagon is stationed for you," She spoke softly," You'll be going to your father in Bravil"

For some odd reason, as she said this, young Bellamont broke out into tears. He hadn't seen his father in years, and father had not tried to even reach them once. Did father know mother was...

She wasn't dead though. Mother couldn't be dead. Not the same loving caring mother who would protect them till her last breath. She wasn't dead...

Not her...

~~{*}~~

Alain Bellamont, nobleman of Bravil, and now widower, stood waiting outside the city walls. He looked up at the sky, wondering how much longer it was going to be before those devil children will finally arrive. How long has it been now? Three years since his dear Margaret left him? And it had been those damn kids fault, too. It's their fault he had been waiting. He didn't like waiting.

"Do you need assistance, sir?" A Dunmer stable woman asked him generously. Alain scoffed at her. _Not from an Ash-born, I don't_, he thought cruelly. There could be not help for him anymore. Alain was angrier than ever. He got the news of Margaret's death three days afterward, and instead of leaving him to mourn, the Legion decided to drop the kids on his doorstep, leaving him only a day to prepare. Alain hated kids, specifically those kids. Bratty, snotty, un-loyal and ungrateful. He didn't want those kids. He only wanted sweet Margaret back.

At last, the wagon pulled up to the city's gate. Bellamont took a deep breath before heading outside. His eyes were burning red from the lack of sleep and constant crying. One minute he was laughing with his mother over a dinner table, next he's mourning her loss, then travel for days in a hot wagon back to the place where it all began. Not to mention meeting their father for the first time in years.

Mikal was the one who finally opened the wagon door, and allowed Mathieu and himself to walk outside. The sunlight was blinding, and a glare went across their sight of their father. Mathieu took a hard look at him for the first time in three years. He was so much different now, and not in a good way. His face had gotten so pale that it turned into a light grey hue, almost silver. His once flourished green eyes, the one Mother fell in love with, had dulled. His hair reverted from pure light brown into a greying thin strands of hair. Even his attitude seemed to die out. Once, Father had a charming and loving smile that would light up any situation. Now, that smile was replaced by an angry frown that depressed even the horrified children.

"Good day, children," He greeted in a very bland and rough voice. Bellamont grunted. The fist thing you say to your disturbed children in "Good day"? It wasn't only an insult to them, Bellamont thought, but an insult to Mother. Yet, both boys said nothing, only staring at the ground with a single bag of luggage in each of their hands. Father cleared his throat, yet it still produced a horrible rough sound. "Your rooms are exactly how you left them. You can unpack there, and get ready for dinner when your done."

"Wh-" Mikal tried to speak up in his squeaky voice," What about Mother?"

Father only turned his neck to face the boy. He returned his simple innocent question with a hard glare that made Mikal feel frozen in his place. The poor boy felt like crying right there. Alain pursed his lips, then replied "Her burial is on Morndas." And left it at that. The children were left to carry their own luggage and unpack in their rooms alone.

"Brother?" Mikal spoke to Mathieu while they put their belongings away. Mathieu didn't respond, but he turned his head toward his brother as if to tell him he heard. Mikal, not knowing if it would be wise to even speak at the moment, muttered," I don't like this place."

Mathieu stopped what he was doing. For a moment, Bellamont tried to fight back a tear, not of sadness, but off bitter rage. "Neither did Mother."

Mathieu hated Bravil. He hated Bravil and all it's ungrateful people. He hated Father, he hated Aunt Mayle, and to be honest, he hated any living creature on the filth of Nirn. No one deserved the life they were given, Bellamont knew, because no one cared enough about it. It had been two days since Bellamont arrived in that hellish place, and two days longer than he wanted to stay. He was growing more impatient with finding out the truth. There was something Mother was running from, something she was afraid of. What was it? He needed to know.

Mathieu, knowing Father was off doing business, stormed into his room and dug into his closet. He didn't care who saw, either, but luckily, only Mikal saw.

"Mathieu?" Mikal called out," You know you cant be in here. Father's going to be angry." Mathieu ignored his brothers warnings and threw down a box of documents and papers. "What are you doing?"

"Searching."

"For what?"

In a pit of rage, Bellamont slammed the papers he had in his hand down, and shouted,"Damn it, Mikal! Are you that blind? Did you forget someone murdered Mother?"

Mikal's eyes widen with shock. "N-no, brother, I-"

"So why are we not looking for him? Why isn't the legion going after him? Mother's death is in vain right now, and I need o what Mother was hiding from all those years!" Bellamont, with eyes full of tears, turned his head back to his stack of papers. "I need to look."

"For what, though?"

"I don't know, documents, letters. Anything." Mathieu stormed through the papers, throwing some down and glancing at others. "We need a clue who took her away from us."

Mikal sighed. Mathieu was acting unbelievably unusual, but he was right. Mother was murdered under strange circumstances. Mikal bent beside his brother, determined to help him in anyway he could. "We're probably looking for a letter."

Hours passed, and still, both boys were desperately searching through the piles of papers they had laid out. They tore apart the whole room looking for some kind of evidence of who her murderer was.

Mikal, however, was tired. He sat up against the wall and sighed. This might take forever, he thought, and they'll be dead when Father will come home to see all this. The optimism in Mikal, which was faint from the beginning, was now gone. Still, Mathieu was determined, and continued to search all he could. Without really looking, Mikal picked up one last paper, and began to read it. Mikal nearly choked.

Mathieu noticed Mikal's sudden mood change. "Mikal?" The boy's eyes didn't leave the paper. He read it over and over, just to make sure he was reading it correctly. "What are you reading?" Mathieu quickly snatched the paper out of Mikal's hands, and read it to himself.

_Alain Bellamont,_

_The Dark Brotherhood is pleased with your interest in our unholy services. The Night Mother accepts the blood you present to her, that of your fleeing wife, and we'll make sure she shall never flee again. As you request, her head will be rend of her body. I will personally make sure of it._

_Yours truly,_

_L. Lachance_

_Ps: I strongly urge you to burn this letter, otherwise wondering eyes might see it._

Bellamont was numb. He wasn't sure what he was reading. He couldn't comprehend the situation. Father...he wouldn't...No. His mind went completely blank. Father loved Mother...didn't he? Then why-

"Children!"

Both heads turned around sharply. It was Father, no surprise. Mikal was frightened, pushing himself against the wall. Mathieu could feel only one thing. His muscles tensed at the sight of that pig. Alain glared at the paper Mathieu was holding, and instantly recognized it. The letter he received a year ago, of his decision. Alain breathed in. "I believe that belongs to me-"

"How _could_ you!"

Alain blinked. "Don't talk back when you don't understand the situation, child."

"How could you kill her!" Alain slapped him across the face, leaving it red and bruised. Bellamont returned it with a hard look.

"Don't talk back, period." Alain ripped the letter from his hands, and threw it on the ground. "I loved your mother, and I long for her every day since she left me to rot here. The day she hit me over the head with a chair and fled was the day I knew I would never see her again." The deranged man refused to look at his son any longer. He stared at the ground, gritting his teeth. "I knew this act of betrayal couldn't go unjust, and I knew I wouldn't allow any other to have her. I'm just glad Lucien got to her before someone did try to take her from me."

Bellamont's heart raced. His head as filled with rage. "A monster like you should never claim to love her." He spat out. "You were a jealous controlling pig, and I swear I'll have you die by my hands. Not by some others like a coward you are!"

Alain grabbed the child's neck, squeezing it, and knocked him against the wall. He was set off, enraged by the child's choice of words. He didn't dare let go of his neck. He wanted to crush the life out of him. "How dare you disrespect me, you runt!" He roared," You think you can kill me, then I dare you to try!"

"Let him go!" Mikal rammed into Father's leg, tripping him to the ground. Mathieu fell as well, and choked from the ache of his throat. His mind went blank once again. He grabbed a piece of broken glass from the vase than had fallen, and ignored the pain it caused as he squeezed it. With blood flowing in his palm, and no remorse in his mind, Bellamont did something without thinking.

He stabbed Father in the heart.

Alain coughed up blood. His heart was hurting, the pain was severe. He looked up into his sons eyes, but saw nothing back. No tears, no regrets. Nothing. Father's limp body fell to the ground, while Mathieu just stood there, unfazed. Mikal cried, not for his father's death, but for his brother. He killed, without even hesitating. He murdered with no remorse. Mathieu turned around to his brother, and kneeled beside him. Mikal almost backed away before forgetting who Mathieu was.

"Go to the neighbors," Mathieu ordered in the same tone and manner Mother would have used. "Tell them exactly what happened tonight."

"W...what about-"

"I'll be fine," Bellamont told him. Yet, his bland tone said otherwise. Mikal didn't stop him when Mathieu left the front door, unsure when he'd ever see his murderous brother again.

One thing for sure though. This was no longer his brother. His brother would never hurt someone out of rage, much less kill. Shaking, and trying his hardest not to look at the corpse of his Father, he followed this stranger that used to be his brother out the door.

Before knocking on the neighbor's door, he gazed around, his mind fuzzy. Mathieu was nowhere to be seen.


	3. Redemption

_Well, I don't have much to say this time around except I have to thank my Beta again. She gives me a whole bunch of suggestions that are really helpful._

_Oh yeah, off topic, if you haven't seen Inglorious Basterds (spelled exactly like that), see it. I'm not even a fan of the director and I still loved it. I mean, a whole movie based around mass murder of Nazi's is exactly my thing, and the only thing that would make it better is if they happened to be zombies, too. Get on that Tarantino!_

_By the way, before I start, thank you guys for the helpful reviews. You guys rock._

* * *

_**Chapter three:**_

_**Redemption**_

The boy watched from a broken window as legion officers raced in search of him. Bellamont hidden himself well, however, inside of a broken down and abandon house across the city. He crouched back into the darkness, ignoring the stomach pains and the constant pleas his eyes made to let him rest. Bellamont hadn't slept for days after killing his father, not being he was remorseful, which he wasn't, but because a strange voice that appeared in his head afterwards wouldn't stop pestering him.

_They'll find you, _the voice mocked over and over again. The voice had such a retched tone that would make a Dunmer squeal.

_They'll find you and bound you up by your neck! You'll die like your whore of a mother!_

Bellamont slapped him own self in the face. Lord, it, whoever it was, just wouldn't let him be! It just mocked and mocked him until the poor boy was reduced to tears.

"Shut Up!"

_Haha! There's that anger! The same anger that robbed little Mikal of a father!_

"No, he killed-"

_You __killed her, my boy, _it declared with a giggle. _You made that wish that led you to flee from your father. What would happen if you never made that wish? Who knows, maybe the best would have come out of it. But I know one thing. Mother would still be alive. Yet you just __had__ to have your way, like a spoiled rich brat you are. Now mommy's dead._

"But she's not dead!" The boy cried out, grabbing a handful of his hair.

_Oh, she is. Rotting in a crypt and laying there while the maggots consume her._

Bellamont's eyes widened. It seemed like for the first time in the last few days, the maddening voice made sense. No...no, he couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let his poor mother be treated that way, her being smothered by dirt, alone. Mother would never forgive him. And for all she had done for him, he couldn't just ignore her any longer.

He had to get her back.

~~{*}~~

Mathieu Bellamont cloaked himself is a dirty hood he found laying on the ground, and waited till nightfall before revealing himself to the outside. He avoided the guards rather easily, knowing they were well tired at this time of night. Slowly, he creaked open the Chapel door, and quickly placed himself inside, hoping there was no one awake. Luckily, there wasn't. He moved himself closer to the alter, and looked down upon it.

He sighed. This place, the place he hadn't seen in three years, never changed to him. In truth, since the death of his mother, Bellamont resented the gods for what they had done to his mother. Yet, the memories of him there, the ones where he and his brother would complain about waking up so early, or the ones where Mother would tell them stories of Mara were sweet in a way. He had to smile at a moment like this, despite all of the tragedies that unfolded.

Bellamont had to brush the thoughts aside. There was something that had to be done, and now wasn't the time to get lost in the painful past. Slowly, Bellamont made his way toward the under-croft of the chapel, and pushed the door in. The fumes that flowed out of the under-croft were atrocious. The smell of rotten flesh and decay filled the air completely, and Bellamont knew he wouldn't get the smell off him for a long time. It was a vile place, where spirits roamed free. The boy could feel them brush past him, trying to find any way to get his attention. Bellamont didn't come for them, however. He searched the name plates for his mothers name. At last, he found it.

_Margaret Bellamont._

Her burial was to be on Morndas, but due to her widower husband's death, it was delayed so that the two may be buried together. Father had ripped the letter to pieces before he died, so all the proof Bellamont had that he was involved of killing his wife was gone. The only proof they had, Bellamont guessed, was a young kid, who they would never believe. Even in his state of mind, slowly going insane from the voice that wouldn't leave, from watching his mother get killed, from killing his father, right down to the look on his brother's face, he could still think clearly enough to realize the simple fact- he was just a kid, and no one would believe him.

He took a deep breath, and pushed off the heavy cement covering. He was instantly sadden over her poor state. Her skin was blue and rotting away, her face bared the same look of utter horror she had before she was killed. Her beautiful black hair become brittle, and her head was sewn onto her neck poorly with a piece of thread.

Bellamont's eyes watered up. It pained him to see her in such a condition. She deserved better than this, rather than be thrown into a hole like a dead pet. But he would make it better. He took out a rusty small dagger he found on the floor of the abandon house and began to carefully cut each strand of thread. Carefully, he reminded himself. He didn't want to hurt his poor mother. She was already in enough pain.

At last, the final piece of thread was cut. His long bony fingers trembled as he gently touched his mothers cheeks. Then, he picked her head up high in the air for him to see clearly.

"It's all over now, Mother," his voice cracked with each tear he felt run down his face, "You can come home now, with me. I-it's all over."

As he sat by the wall of her crypt, he cradled his dear mother's head in his arms, not daring to let her go again. He sworn, if not for a moment, that he heard her soft voice call out to him. Yes, she was calling out! Her voice echoed through his head, and he laughed with joy, the first time he had laughed since her death. Even after all thats happened, even after he caused her death, Mother still loved him!

"I'm so sorry, mother."

~~{*}~~

The dark cold streets were exactly how the man liked them. There were so many places to hide, and so many choices to stalk. It made his wonderful dread job much more easier on him. His robes swept across the stone road, swiftly following him to his destination, knowing no one could see him under his chameleon spell he cast on himself. Tonight's job would be more dull than what he was used to, but a necessary job he would carry out. He needed to recruit another murderer for the Night Mother herself.

The man had followed the young boy for days, and though he had to admit that the child was peculiar, he seemed like a very good addition to the family. The child, after murdering his father in cold blood, succeeded in hiding from authorities much longer than any normal child could. He watched as the boy hid himself in that dirt shack of a house, and even heard the cries he made. Then, he stalked the child to the chapel and noticed him exit with dirt covered clothes. Perhaps the child was a grave robber? It was nothing he hadn't seen before.

Whatever the cause, the dark man decided against waiting anymore time recruiting him. Tonight was the night he would make his first, but hopeful not the last, visit to the child.

Bellamont opened his eyes. The intuition he had told him there was someone around, and though he couldn't see who, he could feel their presence. Quickly, he scattered across the floor to fetch up his rusty blade, and held it up in front of him, determined to fight at any cost if necessary.

"Who's there?" Bellamont called out with a shaken voice. The man smiled. He was eager , wasn't he? In order to give a more proper introduction, The dark man released his chameleon spell, revealing himself to the child. The boy shrieked in surprise when the man suddenly appeared in the room, making the man almost want to laugh. Yet, he kept it to himself.

"Just I," He nearly sang. It was too much fun looking at a scared boys face. "Please, it's rather rude to raise a blade to a guest, is it not?"

Bellamont didn't nudge, and his blade stayed put in front of him. "It's rude for a guest to come in uninvited."

"You have a sharp tongue, my boy."

"Not as sharp as my blade, I promise you."

The man nodded, though the blade wasn't as sharp looking as he said. But he allowed the boy to keep his 'defense' up for the time being. "Your cunning and quick. I like that in a murderer."

_Murderer. _That word rang out in Bellamont's mind like a mocking tune. He trembled in fear. "H-have you come to kill me then? Is there a bounty on my head that I am unaware of? If so-"

"There's no bounty on your head that _I _have any concern over." The man interrupted. He let himself flow freely around the room inside the small and pitiful shack, having no concern over the boy's dull weapon. "I'm here on a much more serious matter."

Bellamont said nothing, his eyes focus on the man. The intruder was trying to be threatening, just in a polite and perverse manner. The man, in a swift motion, pulled down his hood and threw his arm in the air as if her were in a musical theater. Then, with a low deep voice, he introduced himself. "I am Lucien Lachance, servant of the Night Mother and murderer for the Dark Brotherhood."

Bellamont's heart stopped. That name, which was engraved into his mind since he read that horrid letter, rang out in his head, Lucien Lachance...The same name that was signed at the bottom of the the letter...the same name of the intruder that stood before him...Bellamont couldn't breath, his head was spinning rapidly. This man-this _monster_ had killed his mother on that dark night.

_He __killed__ mother!_

_Kill him Mathieu, my boy!_

_Here is your chance! Avenge me and kill the man who separated us, my darling!_

_Kill him for the pain and suffering he caused me!_

His mothers voice inside of his mind pleaded with him on and on. The knife was up, the target was in place. There should be no reason to end the pitiful life of this monster. Yet, Bellamont couldn't do it. He couldn't even move. Shamefully, he was frightened of this monster, frightened of the same monster who claimed his mothers life. He was scared.

Lucien smiled. "The Dark Brotherhood is in need of your gift, my boy."

Bellamont looked up, still in shock. He didn't trust himself to talk too much anymore, or it could be the end of his short life. "W-what?"

"The Dark Brotherhood," Lucien repeated with a grin, "Needs you. Your talent of murdering has caught the eye of the Night Mother, and she wishes you to join our family. It is an honor not to be taken too lightly. However, whether or not you choose to join us is entirely dependent on your actions." Lucien looked at the boy, who stood silent, clearly frightened. His eyes turned to the blade he still held up. It was a pitiful looking thing, really. Rusty to the point that cutting anything would result in it being spit in half. Lucien reached into his pocket and grabbed a gift from the Night Mother herself. "If you do choose to join our family, then accept this virgin blade. The Blade of Woe."

Bellamont's eyes awed at the sheer beauty of the blade. It's curves, it's designs, the way it called out to him. Yet, Bellamont refused to go near the monster that held it in his hands. Lucien coughed, "Very well." He walked toward the door, and sat the blade down carefully on the dusty wooden table. "If you accept, then you must first prove your loyalty to us. An Initiation if you will. Travel to the Imperial city Arena and track down the Aragonian known as Fish-Tail. Murder him in any way you desire."

"Y-you..." Bellamont stuttered, "You want me to kill this person? What has he done to deserve it?"

"My boy!" Lachance laughed widely as he turned around with his arms spread out in the air. "Their stories have no meaning to us in the Dark Brotherhood. That is only the business of the person who wants them dead. We kill them under the Night Mother's orders, and that is enough for our rank."

"Assassins for hire?" Thats the worse of evils.

Lucien smiled. "Precisely." Then, within a split second, Lucien was gone, cloaking himself in his own chameleon spell once more. Alone, Bellamont's head raced, his breath heavy. And both voices, one of his dear mother, and one of the evil pester, questioned his motives.

_What shall you do, my child?_

_You coward! You had such a perfect chance to stab him!_

"No..." Bellamont calmly answered back. "I am much weaker than him right now."

_You'll always be my strong boy._

_Your a sniveling coward, you are!_

Bellamont stood up from his place, and made his way over to the Blade of Woe. As he caressed the blades carvings, he understood what he must do. The chance was staring him in the face, and this time he refused to pass it up again. He picked up the blade, listening to the voices agree with him.

_Such a sweet boy...._

_Kill the Lizard!_

"Oh, I shall," Bellamont smirked, "I must. Then, once I'm in the Dark Brotherhood, I'll become stronger. Once I do, I'll kill that monster. I'll take his life, just as he took yours, mother."

_I knew I could count on my little boy._

_Kill Lachance! Kill Lachance! Hahahaaa..._

"Yes..." He whispered, "I'll join their little cult. Then..." he paused, and the next words rang with finality.

"I'll kill Lucien Lachance."

~~{*}~~

Fish-Tail was a retired Arena warrior, if Bellamont remembered correctly, whose spent his day training the new recruits. A couple of years prior, Fish-Tail almost made his way to the champion. However, an accident had caused his left leg to be permanently paralyzed. Combat wise, he is an easily kill. However, he wasn't, for he was surrounded now by many contestants, making it nearly impossible for close combat against the main. Fish-Tail was a nice start to begin his killing career, and all Bellamont had to do was be cleaver about it.

It took him two days to reach the Imperial city, and two days to think up a plan. He could either kill Fish-Tail in the backstage arena, where, although the many choices of weapons were nice, the chance of being slaughtered wasn't. The second was to kill him in his own house. However, Bellamont wasn't quite sure if the Aragonian even slept in a house, or the backstage arena like most of the others. Plus, he was still uneasy at the sight of blood, and preferred not make such a mess as he did with his father. Bellamont sighed. This was going to be a great challenge.

However, once Bellamont arrived at the arena gates, something had caught his eye. A younger looking boy walked into the arena backstage holding a crate full on food and drinks. Bellamont's mind lit up. Maybe, he thought, there didn't have to be any blood. Maybe poison was the answer to his current problem. It would be a safer and more anonymous alternative. He knew the exact place to start looking for poisons, too.

Bellamont waited until nightfall, where no now would easily see him and all stores closed. He stalked the outside of an Alchemy shop, keeping an eye on any guards near, and waited until the owner locked the door from the outside. Once the owner left, Bellamont casually made his way over to the door, and using an open Lock spell he had learned when he was a rebel child, he broke into the store. Back then, he would only use the spell for innocent pranks. This time the prank was much more sinister.

After a few attempts with the spell, Bellamont made his way in. Inside the store was cramped with books, food, leaves, and potion bottles. None of that concerned him, however, so he looked around some more. He needed a strong poison that would do the job in one drink, otherwise Fish-Tail might automatically know it was him and point him out. He kept pushing things aside, desperately looking for what he needed, until he came across a chest underneath the front desk. In Cyrodill writing, the chest said "Poisons". It was like a gift from the gods themselves. He opened it, and inside neatly laid green bottles of different kinds of poisons. Instead of being picky, Bellamont knew it was in his best interest to be greedy in his situation, and grabbed as much bottles as he could, leaving the store behind a mess.

The next day, Bellamont awaited for the food boy to walk by. Before the boy could carry on his daily rutine and go into the backstage room, Bellamont quickly stopped him.

"Hold on. The boss told you to take a day off. I'll be taking these for you."

"Who are you?" the kid questioned.

"I'm James Dune," Bellamont lied discretely," I'm new and starting my job today."

"I didn't hear of no new worker! What are you trying to pull?"

"What reason do I have to lie?"

"You think I'm stupid? To bug the famous contestants, of course!"

Bellamont grunted. He never wanted to stab a kid more than he wanted to at that moment, but kept as calm as he could. "I just need to do this once," He finally confessed," If you do, I'll reward you three septims. It's a nice deal, isn't it? I'll be paying you to do your work."

The young boy gave it a small thought. Then, as he smiled, Bellamont knew the greed got the best of the boy. He sat down the crate by Bellamont's feet and held his palm up high.

"Three Seps," The boy gave a big proud smile. Bellamont reached into his pocket and placed exactly three septims on the boys palm. When the boy left, whistling loudly, Bellamont quickly and secretly too a bottle out form the crate, emptied it, and poured in one of the strong poisons he stole.

Inside of the backstage arena was horrible. It produced an oder of sweat and blood that made Bellamont want to vomit. Although Bellamont had smelled a much more horrible scent, that from his mother's crypt, this would be the second most worst thing he smelled. Bellamont ignored the unsettling of his stomach, and began to hand out the food and drinks to everyone there.

"I see Bobby's taking a break today," On Nord noticed. Bellamont smiled and continued on. At last, when the crate was almost emptied, Bellamont caught notice of an Argonian limping on one leg, sharpening his sword.

Bellamont grinned, and handed the toxic bottle he saved just for the lizard. "Here you go, sir," he handed the bottle out for him to take. Just as he thought, the Argonian took the bottle and began to drank it in front of him. Now Bellamont needed to keep his distance, just in case someone pointed him out. He casually walked over to the exit door, and dropped the crate down. The Argonian started to make a ruckus, just as Bellamont hoped, and coughed loudly.

"What's wrong with Fish-Tail?" Someone called out. The whole room of savages took noticed of their comrade, and circled around him like he was a show. Bellamont's job was done, he didn't need to stay any longer than he had.

Swiftly, Bellamont fled the Imperial city. The last thing he needed was to be chased down by the Imperial Legion again. It was scary to run around at night in the forest, but there was no other place he could go. When he thought he was safe, Bellamont sat by a tree and tried to catch his breath. Then, oddly more comfortable after the murder, he was able to close his eyes and drift off to sleep.

~~{*}~~

"You did well, brother."

That was the savage voice Bellamont could hear in his dreams, He heard it over and over, like a echo that wouldn't stop. It took him a moment to realize that it wasn't just a voice inside of his head, but it was a voice from the outside. His young eyes flickered open, and he caught himself staring at the same dark man that haunted his dreams.

"I heard well of your progress," Lucien commented, allowing the boy to stretch his sleepiness away," But I do have to admit, you caused a bit of a mess, didn't you?"

"What are you saying?"

"Well," Lucien laughed," You sowed your face to a whole room of witnesses. Thats not very assassin-like now, is it? The boy you took the crate from no doubt will recall you to the guards. Not to mention the Alchemy shop break in that took place the night before seems a little suspicious, What if the guards caught those stolen poisons on you?"

Bellamont growled. "How do you know of all this?"

"Oh dear boy, the Dark Brotherhood knows a lot of things," Lucien continued," However, the job is done, and Fish-Tail is dead. Your choice of murder was...creative. As long as he is dead, no harm done, after all. I take it that the Blade of Woe is still a virgin blade, am I correct?"

"Yes," The boy answered simply.

"Then my regards to you even more so. You'll prove to be a finer addition to the Brotherhood than I thought. This is your next step. Travel to Cheydinhal and seek out an abandon house. Once there, go to the basement and find a door. You cannot miss it, I assure you. It will ask you a question. "What is the color of Night." You will answer, and answer exactly, "Sanguine, my brother."

"Thats all? No one will die?"

"Dear boy, you are already apart of this family. You are not required to prove yourself more than you already have. This house will protect you from the outside world so no one may harm you. It is your new home."

Bellamont nodded to the man. "I understand."

"Good." Lucien turned around, about to leave the boy be. "Until then."

"Until then," Bellamont repeated, though unsure of himself. He watched was Lucien walked away, this time fully visible. He knew accepting this invitation to the family would be a life changing experience, not for the better. Yet, he wondered if he was up to the challenge to actually live with murderers and avenge his mother.

_I have to, _He thought. _I'll kill the bastard._

_Kill him._

_Kill._

* * *


	4. Home

**Sorry for the long wait. And we're only on chapter four, believe it or not. Thanks for the reviews guys! I have a new Beta-reader on the team, so the story will hopefully be getting better. Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 4:**

**Home**

It was any wonder how a structurally beautiful city like Cheydinhal homed any kind of evil such as the Dark Brotherhood. While a high society mirrored the city's image, it was poisoned by talks of the perverse cult. Everyday a new rumor rose up into conversations about the gang of assassins who no one was really sure they existed. Even the boy was doubtful when he first glanced at the city.

Bellamont arrived later than we should have. He fought with himself the whole way there, wondering if what he was wrong or just. The fear inside him built up as well, for he knew that if Lucien had any suspicion of his plan what so ever, then Bellamont would be as good as dead. He turned around a couple of times, thinking he should get back to Mikal or his aunt, but the voices would scowl at the poor boy.

_This is your chance to avenge my, my boy._

_Don't dare turn your back a second chance to kill that beast..._

_Don't you care about me, darling?_

The voices that raced through his mind made him nearly want to yell, and though he was alone on the road, he prevented himself form doing so. Instead, he tried to pull it off as a simple headache and continued to flee from his plan. The voices grew louder and louder, while his head ached, gnawing in his mind from their repeating pleas. At last, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Alright!" he shouted, hoping no one was around to hear," Alright, I will go!" He turned himself around to the direction of Cheydinhal and walked with his hand caressing his temple. Bellamont knew the voices would never rest if he didn't proceed with his plan, but more that the guilt of his mother's death without vengeance killed him inside. At last, he finally arrived at the beautiful city gates.

Bellamont didn't dare ask for directions to the abandoned house, especially to any guards. It would no doubt be suspicious of him, and he didn't need the Dark Brotherhood scowling him about it on his first day. Instead, he relied on his own eyes and searched throughout the city. It wasn't hard finding it for it stood out from Cheydinhal. Though it stood as tall as its neighbors, the house was wrecked from the outside. It took on a grey hue from the years of abandonment, and stood more frozen than any house, as if time had stalled there. When Bellamont was sure no one was around to witness him, he crept to the door and allowed himself inside quickly, shutting the door carefully behind him.

The interior was as bad as the outside of the house. Broken furniture and shattered glass spread across the floor like a sea of garbage. Dried blood was visible on the roof and the walls by the basement door, where Bellamont had to walk toward. He didn't like the idea of stepping on glass with his worn-out boots, but pushed his childish disquietness away. The dark basement didn't help with his anxiety much and he had to slightly touch the wall for guidance as he walked. Something caught his eye that even he could see. A red light illuminated the back of the basement room, awing the boy. He went for a closer look, slowly stepping forward with caution. The light came from a tall eerie door at the end of a small dug tunnel.

This was the door the monster had told him of.

He was right, it was hard to miss. It made Bellamont nervous; he thinking it was peering into his soul. A black skull was painted on the door that seemed to glare at the boy, and possibly any one else who happened to come upon its gaze. But it's strange aura and look wasn't what caught his attention the most. It was its strange ability to speak with a low growl.

"_What...is the color....of night....?"_

Bellamont chose not to speak right away, for he really couldn't. His thought was caught with awe that the door possessed the ability to speak the way it could. He snapped out of his thoughts, and hesitantly told the door its answer it sought for.

"S-sanguine, my brother."

Like a story from the books, the door opened itself up to the boy, and whispered with the same low growl "_Welcome..."_

Bellamont didn't step in right away, not without taking a breath he was holding in up to this point. His chest pounded, knowing his life may very well change forever as his foot crossed the door opening. The truth was he didn't want to get through with this, but as his second foot soon followed, he knew it was too late to turn back this time. Destiny called him into the damned house, and unfortunately, he answered.

"So, you finally decided to come at last."

That voice Bellamont became accustomed to no doubt belong to Lucien, his monster. Lucien stood tall inside of his wide damp sanctuary, wearing fine dark clothes. He was waiting for the boy, Bellamont knew, though he wished he hadn't. It would have been easier for Lucien to not expect him.

"You seem to have a lot of belongings," Lucien commented," its fine. Shay, take the boy's belongings for him and out them in his new room." As he was ordered, a Dark Elf walked over to Bellamont, ready to take his bag from him.

"No!" Bellamont shrieked as the Dunmer's hands touched his bag. His mother's dear head was still in there, resting peacefully, and he wasn't ready for any of the Brotherhood to witness it, if he could help it. This surely wouldn't be a good thing to have to explain, even if it is of his mother's rotting head. "I-I have...valuables in my bag that I would feel much safer if they...stayed with me..." It wasn't a lie.

Lucien pursed his lips for a moment, thinking suspiciously of the boy's actions. "I understand. You may keep them with you for as long as you want, that is no concern of mine." Lucien turned around and began to walk without the boy. "Come, follow me. I shall introduce you to the rest of your new family. They're eager to finally meet you. Teinaava," He called out to an Argonian near by," fetch the rest of the family for the feast. Our newest brother has finally arrived."

Bellamont was led to another room more occupied than the first. It might have been much bigger, he noted, for it laid six beds on on end, and on another end had a long table for nine, filled with food from luscious fruits, cooked meats and cheap wine for all ready to be devoured. Bellamont's mouth watered. How long had it been since he'd eaten? Lucien walked ahead of him towards a High Elf woman who was preparing the last bits of dinner, as it looked.

"Celine, my dear," he held his arms apart," The food looks wonderful. Now, there's someone I want you to meet."

"Before the others?" She gave a warm smile to Bellamont. His eyes fell to the ground, almost embarrassed. She was a beautiful woman for sure, with her long blond hair tucked on top of her hair in braids and her pale skin smooth. Though her eyes looked tired and full of hardship, they were still no doubt stunningly green. "I'm proud to call you my new brother," She told him with a soft voice," We heard stories about you, though few, they were quite impressive."

"Thank you..." Bellamont still couldn't meet her gaze.

"No doubt. Your first day here and already making a good name for yourself. You have quite a future here. "If only this woman knew how on the spot she was with her well-being comment.

"If I may cut in," Lucien raised his hand slightly," There's a chest for you at the end of your bed where you may treasure your belongings." He then took out a key from his pocket and handed out in the open for Bellamont taking. Though Bellamont despised the thought of touching fingers with that monster, he knew it would be suspicious if he didn't take the key. So he reached out, and took the key swiftly as he could. He quickly left Lucien to talk to Celine while he went to his chest o open it.

_You're leaving mommy in here, son? In the cold dark without you?_

_Bellamont twitched in guilt of his mother. Even as it killed him to leave his mother alone as he promised he wouldn't again, he couldn't have the murderers see her. They didn't deserve to see her, not after what they've done. He sighed, and mentally answered to his sweet mother._

_Just for a while, Mother, just for while. I wont leave you here for long, I promise._

When he walked back with less weight on his shoulders, he found that the table had grown a bit of people. Bellamont was hesitant to walk over to them, and surely didn't want to meet them either. No matter how generous, they were still murderers.

"Bellamont, come over and join us!" Celine smiled brightly and waved from the table," This is Vicente Valtieri, one of the executioners here."

A sickly looking man, though at one point may have been handsome, held his boney hand out for Bellamont to take. He was clearly a vampire, Bellamont noticed, his skin was sunken, eyes pale yellow and his teeth made an indention on the outside of his mouth. He looked like an animate corpse, a smiling one at that, and though Bellamont had never seen anything undead before, he knew this person had to be. Bellamont was taken back by him, and he dared to think he was just as frightned of this beast as he was of the monster Lucien, only he didn't get as a cold of a vibe from this man. The vampire's hand sat there for a moment until the vampire got awkward, knowing Bellamont was taken back from his condition.

"I'm proud to make your acquaintance, Mr. Bellamont," The vampire greeted in a polite tone," You don't have to be so frightened. I promise you, I wont bite." The boy actually smiled at Vicente's attempt at a joke, but tried to hide it. Soon after Vicente walked away, an Argonian woman took his place in front of Bellamont and shook his hand as well.

"I am Ocheeva, newest brother," As far as Bellamont could tell, she was smiling. Then, she pointed to another Argonian, the one Lucien spoke to earlier, and introduced him as well. "This is my twin brother, Tienavaa." The male reptile simply smiled and raised his hand slightly instead of shaking hands with the boy, which Bellamont was grateful of. He didn't like shaking hands with all these murderers.

Celine touched Bellamont's shoulder gently, and pointed to a empty spot of the table. "There's a seat there, right across from Maria. She's the youngest of the house, born and raised here. She's a tad bit shy, but she'll get used to you." As Bellamont made his way to his seat, he took noticed of the small girl. He was amazed, really. He didn't expect someone so young, younger than he, to take part in such a cult like this. From appearance, she didn't look like it, either. She was about the age of 12, and shorter than anyone expects a child to be at that age. Her clothes were that of a normal 12 year old girl, and her hair was blond and curly. Yet, this young innocent looking girl was expected to grow up a murderer. Celine was right when she told him she was shy. Maria didn't say a word to her new brother, but only glanced at him a couple of times and always turned away immediately as he looked back.

Once again, Celine touched his shoulder slightly and whispered into his ear," Welcome to your new home."

New home? How many times had he heard that same phrase now? Over and over, they never led to anything good afterwards. Then he looked at Maria again, innocent and clean of any sin what so ever. The boy smiled. Maybe it wasn't going to be all that bad after all. Then he looked at the whole table, seeing the smiling faces of all that attended the feast. They laughed, cheered and told stories, just like a real family would. Even if Bellamont would hate to admit it, he felt...warm. This was the closest thing he had to a family or not. It scared him a little to know that once kills Lucien, if he could, there would be no way that he could continue this happiness with his new "family". He wasn't sure if he would even be alive afterwards. He would have to give everything up again.

~~{*}~~

Three weeks. Bellamont agitated. Three weeks since he's been in that hellhole. The wait was agonizing, and with having to see the face of the _monster _everyday, it was just making his time there more unpleasant. Yet, all the members there, who kept happy and friendly faces were just as monstrous as him. They still killed ruthlessly, leaving families in mourning, just as his was. Even Maria, the sweet innocent girl was expected to become like them soon. She was going to be like them.

Bellamont couldn't take it anymore. The voices surprisingly didn't stop him when he made the decision, perhaps they were waiting until he went outside. At last, his three week sneak training would pay off as he crept from his bed and left the murderers sleeping behind. His bag was packed, including that of his mother's much more rotten head, and began to make his way to the same door he entered not that long ago.

"Your leaving?" Bellamont expected that voice to be Lucien's or the vampire's. It was much to soft and little, however. The boy turned around, seeing Maria staring at him from the bedroom door.

"Bellamont?"

"It is nothing, Maria," Bellamont turned his head away from her,: Go back to sleep."

"But, your leaving..."

Bellamont didn't respond to her. For a minute, he simply stood there, thinking of her sad words. Then he walked forward to the door.

"It'll get better," Maria called out, once last attempt to get him to stay. Bellamont stopped. Her voice sounded like a plea.

"I mean, it can be a little uncomfortable at first..."Maria crept closer to him," But you'll get use to it. It's like a real family here."

"I already had a family here, Maria."

She stopped, staring at him with those sad blue eyes. Bellamont tilted his head down almost immediately after seeing her expression change. He was guilty, but kept on his stern face just so she wouldn't know. Without another word, Bellamont turned back around towards the bedroom, defeated. He wasn't sure if she realized it, or if she was too young to, but she got her way without saying much at all.

~~{*}~~

Vicente Valiteri's life was pretty content. He would forever be imprisoned in the sanctuary due to the late stage of his disease, and he feared the sun as if it were Dagon itself. Even heat frightened him a little. During his conversation time with Lucien, who was the only one of the house who could put up with his Breton traditions, he drank coffee with him, for it was much cheaper than tea. Unfortunately, it was just as hot. Lucien had to make sure the coffee was much colder than any normal persons liking, or he would have to hear on and on of the vampire's ranting. Still, Vicente was the only one who could hold up an intelligent conversation with.

Vicente was already sitting down at the table when Lucien made his way with the prepared beverage. Lucien sat down the vampire's drink, and sat his own self down, already gulping his own drink.

"Thank you, Lucien," Vicente held his coffee to his mouth and sipped it, only to decide that it was still too hot. Then, he sat it down to dry. "So how is our newest arrival?"

"He's only been here for 10 months," Lucien replied, staring off into the distance," But already he's shown so much improvement than anyone of the murderer rank should."

"Yes, he's progressing quickly. Yet...there's something about him...I've been meaning to talk to you about the boy. Does he seem a little....perverse to you?"

"Being perverse is a normal thing around here, Vicente."

"I understand that," Vicente struggled in his seat to stall while finding the right words in his head. "This boy is different. However, I cannot put my finger on it exactly what it is. Something about him is strange. He's been here for 10 months now, long enough for anyone to get comfortable with this family."

"And he isn't?" Lucien cocked an eyebrow.

"Surely you've noticed. He pushes people away, even sweet Celine's charms, and not even the Cheydinhal count was able to resist her and him being 15..."

"So," Lucien looked rather confused," Your skeptical because the boy isn't infatuated with a 30 year old woman? Thats rather vile."

"Thats not where I'm getting with this. With joining this family, he seems-"

"Resentful?"

Vicente gave him a hard look. "That, but I was thinking angry."

"Angry?" Lucien laughed loudly," Why on the soul of Sithis would he be angry? We took him in?"

"In all due respect, please, keep your voice down. I don't wish for him to hear this," The vampire spoke softer," Perhaps...he has some....issues with trust, but I do not believe that to be the whole story. In fact, we do not know his story. However, the only person he has any connection with is Maria, and even then he pushes her away. And then, perhaps..."

Vicente left Lucien in silence, thinking carefully of which words to choose next. Lucien looked at him, agitated and confused.

"Perhaps?" He edged on.

"Perhaps...," Vicente was now quieter than ever, speaking in a murmur that only Lucien and him could hear, "I see something monstrous in him. If I told you he was more monstrous than any of us here, had a much more devious agenda, and could possibly be a threat to our very foundation, what you you do? Would you heed my warning?"

Not knowing where the vampire was going with this theory, Lucien up from his seat gradually, and took his empty cup.

"Valiteri, I expect more after you," He stated suddenly, causing Vicente to flinch. "You, a much more wiser being than I from the lifetime of experience, should know that I would take this as insulting. True, whatever your trying to say is but a theory, but a foolish one at that. Are you saying that I'm blind? That I couldn't defeat a mere child?"

Vicente glared at him, then gave him a simple answer. "...no..."

"If I was as foolish as you think, then I wouldn't be promoted to Speaker soon. You might as well tell the Listener that he is foolish, or go all the way and tell the Night Mother herself."

"It was," Vicente spoke slowly," But a theory."

Lucien still glared. "And...?"

"And," The vampire's eyes shifted away in defeat,"A foolish one at that. I'm sorry for questioning you, Executioner."

Without saying another word, Lucien turned around and walked away from Vicente, who sat and stayed in his place at the table. His coffee was still full, yet he didn't have the appetite to finish it.

Plus, it had got too cold.

~~{*}~~

"You've been getting better."

The cold vampire decided to small chat with Bellamont, who was way to busy training to talk with him. Of course, training was just an excuse not to engage into a conversation with anyone, really. He didn't like being social here. "You're at the right young stage to start your first contract."

Bellamont stopped throwing his knife in his place. "What?"

"Lucien had decided it was time for you to start gaining contracts, simply to say," Vicente walked towards the boy. "Though it's a little early for someone who's only been here for 10 months, I have to agree with him. Not that I want to agree, but I have to."

Contracts? Already?

"Lucien has been watching your progress closely. He is impressed by your improvement since staying here, and I do have to agree, you have been getting much better than anyone else at your current rank."

Bellamont flung his small dagger at the dummy's head, not even looking as it landed right between it's eyes. "I have nothing to prove to him."

Vaccinate, taken back by the boy's word, glared at him. "I would reframe from speaking of a higher rank in such a manner. It would be a shame to have to snap off your tongue for saying such fool words."

Bellamont chose not to adknoledge the vampire's warning, and instead went for his equipment on the ground.

"Maria will be accompanying you."

Bellamont stopped in this place. "Maria?"

"Yes, Maria. She's well enough capable of a contract just as you are."

"She's _younger_ than even I-"

"She's _qualified _enough," The vampire gave him a hard challenging look. "She's been here longer than you, much longer. And questioning our leader's decision is not a wise path to follow."

Bellamont said not a word to the vampire, enraged that such a young girl would be killing already. He kept a stern face at the vampire. Vicente cleared his throat.

"You'll be going to Kvatch to kill a man by the name of Herot Winsar. Be cautioned; He's been in the Mage's guild for a long time, so you'll have to be creative."

Mage's guild? Had they gone mad? Even the most dumb of all Orcs would know how hard this mission would be for even two children, Brotherhood members or not. As he grunted, Bellamont turned around to head for the door.

"Oh, and Mathieu," Vicente stopped him. "Don't worry about not telling Maria. I already told her myself."


	5. Sorry!

I'm so sorry for not being on here for this long!

I had to drop by and tell everyone I'm not dead. I've just been so busy (I graduated and went to college).

I plan on updating Bellamont again soon. It's my prized story, and I wouldn't want to abandon it.

Look for updates soon!


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